


Moments

by unbidden_truth



Category: Chalion Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Friendship, Over the Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:19:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbidden_truth/pseuds/unbidden_truth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three moments between Betriz and Iselle.  Three moments before their lives would change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Izhilzha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izhilzha/gifts).



> I had a wonderful time writing this. While I really wanted to work on your idea about Iselle and Betriz dealing with a death demon and/or the gods, I wasn't sure I would have enough time to do it justice (so maybe as a NYR prompt, I may give it a go). I hope you enjoy it! Also thanks to P. for the beta even if you had no idea about the canon.

It was within the first few weeks of living in Valenda that the Provincara had decided that Betriz would make a good companion for Iselle. The Provincara had hoped Betriz would be a calming influence on Iselle, but after a few months, her father had despaired that the royesse was leading Betriz into more mischief than should be allowed for a young lady.  For Betriz and Iselle, it had become the best of friendships despite the difference in their ranks.

::::::

The day was warm when Betriz first met Iselle.

They had just moved to Valenda from Ferrej.  Her father had wanted to escape the memories of her mother that seemed to linger in Ferrej even after so many years. He had known the old castle warder in the dowager Provincara's household who had been hoping to retire.   Between the old warder putting in a good word and the fact that the young Provincar knew her father personally, the Provincara had open-heartedly welcomed them.  And upon meeting ten year old Betriz, had placed her under the wings of her cousin, Lady dy Hueltar.

It was during her second day, when she had been sent on an errand to tell the cook that lunch should be served late since the Provincara was expecting company, where she had first seen Iselle.

The kitchen was usually sweltering during the summer, at least according to Lady Hueltar's maid.  One oven was reserved for the baking and the other with everything else.  The head cook firmly ran her kitchen, though when Betriz was introduced the day before, the cook had given her a smile and a slice of apple pie.

Today, however, the kitchen was found in disarray.  It was as if the wet flour had exploded all over, painting everything in a beige brown. A young girl, whose hair was a shade Betriz had never seen, a mix between red and blonde, was staring at the ovens with a frown.  She looked a bit mournful at the pan in the oven before turning to the cook, who was still gaping in disbelief, saying, "I didn't think it would do that."

"Your highness, I think it would be best the next time you decide to try something in the kitchen to perhaps ask for help."

"But I wanted to try to make Mama's favorite biscuits."

"But that is what we are here for, my lady.  Anytime you want something, all you have to do is ask."

Betriz came further into the room, ignored by everyone except the young girl who spotted her and gave her a grin.  She couldn't help but grin back.

But before the young girl could reply, a shout was heard from the doorway, "Royesse Iselle!"

“Royesse Iselle! What are you doing over here? You've worried your grandmother!” An older woman with a frantic expression on her face, followed by two maids came rushing into the kitchen.

"Dear Lady!  What happened in here?" she asked glancing around the kitchen.

"Nan, I was making biscuits for Mama, but it didn't work."

The lady gave a loud, exasperated sigh and Betriz wondered if this happened a lot and looked at the girl with anewed curiosity.

"Your highness, you know we have talked about this.  I am going to have to tell the Provincara."

"Must you? Do you think she will give me a long lecture like Lady dy Hueltar?"

"Well I am hoping she will, now come along," the lady replied, firmly placing a hand on the young girl's shoulder to steer her out of the kitchen.

"And next time you disappear, you must tell someone," the lady was saying as they disappeared from the view.

It was only then that the cook noticed Betriz, "Oh Betriz!  Did the Provincara send you? "

"Yes.  Her grace asked for lunch to be served late today."

"Thank the Lady of the Spring!  It will take us a few hours to clean before we can do anything.  The gods save us from children wishing to cook."

It was only later that Betriz had realized that had been royesse. A _real_ royesse who had lived in the Zangre. And had been equal parts thrilled and confused that the Royesse Iselle had not acted like the royesse found in stories her nana would sometimes read to her.

::::::

“I don't know if I really believe my mother is ill because of my father's death.” The words are stated rather matter of factly but Betriz could see the conflict of emotions flickering across Iselle's face. Her eyes are a stormy blue, lips twisted in a frown as she watches the courtyard below. Royse Teidez was practicing with his fencing tutor working on his footwork, the sunlight glinting off his hair in an amber halo.

Betriz leaned next to Iselle, the sleeves of her green frock pushed up to her elbows, the marble hot against her skin.

"Did someone say something?" she asks tilting her head to the side to look at Iselle better.  Something had triggered dowager royina earlier today. She had seemed well throughout lunch until the traveling bard had started telling a tale of  Lord dy Lutez treason.  Royina Ista had broken down crying and no one had been able to calm her down.  The physician had warned the Provincara that it would be best to not mention anything related to Roya Ias to help the dowager royina heal and the Provincara had agreed and firmly stated everyone should avoid mentioning anything related to the old roya within Royina Ista's presence.  Unfortunately, no one had expected the bard to sing about the Lord dy Lutez.

“No, it's just a feeling.  Most of the time you can't tell.  Sometimes when we talk, it's like I'm back in the Zangre.  Like the times when she used to read to me once Teidez was asleep or when she told the maid she wanted to brush my hair instead.  Sometimes I forget that she's sick at all," Iselle says, her hands clenching into a tight fists before she exhaled and clasped them together.

"Sometimes," she continues, "I wonder if she's fooling all of us. That it wasn't the death my father, but that it's easier to be ill. As a way to deal with all that is expected of her.  Maybe it's just easier to pretend to be mad then deal with all the heavy burden she must have had to bear."

Betriz isn't sure what to say.  Most of the Provincara's household sidestepped the dowager royina's mental state. 

"And then I feel guilty for thinking such horrid thoughts. As if my mother has not suffered enough grief.”

“Iselle,” Betriz replies softly, placing a hand on Iselle's shoulder, the linen of Iselle's dress soft against the palm of her hand, “there is nothing wrong with thinking that way.  No one would blame you for wanting your mother to get well and being frustrated that she is not.  And it did seem she had been doing well until today." 

Letting out a sigh, Iselle turned to look at Betriz, her blue eyes contemplative, "Have you ever felt that way.  Guilty for feeling a certain way?"

"It is not the same, but sometimes," Betriz says, pausing to consider her words, thinking of her own father. Of the silence that seemed to follow her father. Of the dark shadows that sometimes linger in his eyes whenever he mentions her mother in passing. "Sometimes I feel guilty when I get frustrated about the expectations my father has for me.  I get mad at him whenever he says I should be more like my mother.  And then I feel terrible and selfish for getting mad because I know how difficult my mother's death has been on him."

 Iselle hummed in sympathy, "We can only be who we are in the end.  I think that there is nothing wrong with wanting to be like your mother, but only if you wish it.  And there is nothing wrong with being mad if others wish it."

"Then there is nothing wrong for you to want your mother to get well and feeling frustrated when she has not," Betriz replies.

“You're right of course,” Iselle says, straightening her back, a resolute expression thinning her lips as if she's ready to march into heavens to make the gods heal mother.

Reaching to clasp Betriz's hand, Iselle firmly says, "Thank you my dear Betriz for listening to me ramble.  You may not realize it, but having you here is a great comfort."

"You would do the same," Betriz says assuredly grinning at the royesse.  It was rare for Iselle to allow others to comfort her much less voice her own doubts and fears about her mother's well-being.   She was very much like her grandmother, the Provincara in that regard, with her steadfast resilency and no-nonsense attitude.

They linger companionably side by side until Nan dy Vrit finds them few minutes later and forces them to attend their lessons.

::::::

The breeze blew her hair merrily about as she raced after Iselle ignoring the shouts of their governess behind them. Laughter spilled past her lips as she ducked low, steady on the saddle as her horse galloped.

Up ahead Iselle let out a 'whoop' of joy and Beatriz could imagine the look of scandalized horror on the governess's face behind her without even looking. The paths through the forest were well worn, perhaps from the days when the old Provincar used to hunt or perhaps older still. The sun was high in the sky and the sunlight filtered through the leaves, dancing across the path and warm on her skin as she let out an answering 'whoop.'

They both knew they were acting in manner that was not befitting ladies, but they had been cooped up all day dealing with Darthacan grammar. It had been days since Lady dy Lystar had been willing to let them go out for a ride and they had only been allowed because Iselle had convinced the Provincara.

She wasn't sure if Lady dy Lystar would last longer than the governess before her after today. Especially if after the argument she had with the royesse the other night over Iselle's treatment of the nobleman's son who had been heckling one of the serving girls was an indication. Particularly after the Provincara had sided with Iselle even though she had argued that perhaps more tact should have been used.

When they finally reached the manor, one look at their governess told them that the day would not end happily. "Royesse Iselle! If the courtiers from the roya's court could see you now, they would be appalled at your behavior! This is not how a seventeen year old royesse should behave!"

Iselle did look contrite even if it was only half-hearted.

"And Betriz! You should know better! You are older than the royesse and should act as a guide of proper etiquette rather than following in the royesse's unbecoming behavior," and thus began one of Lady dy Lystar's lectures.

Betriz looked guilty up at their governess before sharing a hidden smile with Iselle.  They were both used to Lady dy Lystar's lectures.

As they patiently waited for her to finish, both Iselle and Betriz covertly watch as the the chief divine of the Daughter's temple leave the castle. 

They did not know that soon Iselle would be chosen to represent the Daughter for Daughter's Day.  That within a few months, their lives would change and they would become involved in political intrigue, death magic, the very gods themselves as the future of Chalion would be decided.

But on that day, as they hurried through the courtyard of the castle, they wore carefree smiles without worrying about the future.


End file.
